PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Before the fire,

I held tightly to my illusions.



Safety, comfort, support, warmth, acceptance...



I liked my illusions, and I miss them.



Now, after the fire,

I stand accused.



They say "You don't relax, enjoy, attend, nest...any more."



I say "You don't want to face the impermanence of it all..."

They say "You're no fun any more."

I say "You don't have anything real to give to me."

They say "You don't play any more."

"We think we will fire you as our friend."



I say "The hell with you and your stability."



I still smell smoke...